Safe Harbor | Kinktober Day 10 – Gentle | The Accidental Husband

Intro:

Patrick wasn’t a soft man by nature. Life had carved him out of sharp angles, quick tempers, and a persistent need to keep his fists clenched against the world. But here, in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom with you, every single wall he built came crumbling down.

The room was bathed in the warm, dim glow of a single bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the heavy blankets. Outside, the rain beat a steady rhythm against the windowpane, but inside, time seemed to stand completely still.

Patrick sat on the edge of the mattress, watching you with an intensity that had lost all its usual bite. His broad shoulders were relaxed, his dark eyes tracing every line of your face, your throat, your chest, reverent and grounded. His calloused, heavy fingers reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from your forehead before sliding down to cupped your cheek. His thumb stroked your cheekbone with aching softness.

"You're exhausted," Patrick murmured, his voice a low, raspy rumble that held no tension, only genuine, unfiltered care. He leaned forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally against your lips, a quiet, velvet-soft press that tasted of unconditional warmth. "Just lie back for me. Let me take care of you tonight. No rush... no noise. Just us."

His hands moved with deliberate care as he undressed you, stripping away your clothes piece by piece, kissing every newly exposed inch of your skin as if worshiping it. He unbuttoned his own shirt, letting it fall away to reveal his broad, scarred chest, wanting nothing between your body and his.

When he shifted over you, he carefully supported his heavy frame on his elbows, ensuring his weight never crushed you. He parted your legs slowly, his thick thighs sliding between yours, locking your bodies together. He reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, slicking his fingers before working them gently between your hips. He took his time, stretching you with excruciating patience, his thumb gently massaging your hip bone while he whispered low praise into the shell of your ear.

"That's it... just let go for me, sweetheart," he rasped softly, his warm breath fanning against your sensitive neck. "You're doing so good..."

Once he knew you were loose and ready, Patrick lined himself up at your entrance. His gaze locked onto yours, searching your eyes for total consent and comfort. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, he pushed into you, filling you with a slow, heavy slide that drew a soft gasp from both of your throats. He paused deep inside you, letting your body adjust, his forehead resting against yours.

"Look at me," Patrick whispered, his voice trembling with a rare, raw vulnerability as he entwined his thick, calloused fingers with yours, pressing your knuckles into the mattress beside your head. He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that prioritised every wave of friction, every soft sigh passing between your lips. "I've got you. Just take what you need..."

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Patrick Sullivan (The Accidental Husband)

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